Walker Grant’s sharp brows furrowed. "Chloe, I did what you said. Why aren’t you happy?"
Chloe Reed let out two perfunctory laughs. "Oh, I’m thrilled."
The next second, her smile vanished. "Are you satisfied now?"
Walker Grant’s handsome face immediately darkened.
Just then, his phone rang. It was a call from Dylan Finch.
"Speak."
Dylan Finch immediately picked up on the cold irritation in his voice. He swallowed nervously and said, "Mr. Grant, the international conference call starts in ten minutes."
Walker Grant hung up without another word.
Chloe Reed had already taken her script and gone to the conference room.
Her indifference and mockery left him feeling incredibly agitated.
He turned and left.
Kyle Coleman’s brows furrowed slightly as he watched Chloe Reed walk in with a sullen look on her face. "You seem off."
"I’m fine," Chloe Reed said. She glanced at the rest of the script and estimated there was about a month of work left.
Kyle Coleman was stern. "Don’t bring personal feelings into your work. We can’t have it affecting your voice."
"Yeah, I know."
After the meeting, she went into the recording booth.
After a busy afternoon, she came out feeling parched.
She went to the breakroom, made a glass of lemonade, and sipped it slowly.
After work, she went straight to the mall, bought some household supplies, and had them delivered to her new home.
Once she was done shopping, she went to the security office and gave them the name and phone number of the person she wanted to blacklist, which they entered into their system.
The security guard smiled broadly. "Rest assured, ma’am. This person will absolutely not be allowed into the complex."
Chloe Reed’s lips curved into a smile. "Thank you."
"It’s our job, ma’am!" the guard replied.
She carried her purchases back to her new home.
However, her every move was being watched by hidden bodyguards, who reported everything to Walker Grant.
In the dim light of the car, Walker Grant stared at the stream of messages on his phone, his expression growing darker by the second.
Nathaniel Monroe, sitting beside him, sensed the oppressive atmosphere and quickly asked, "Walker, what’s wrong?"


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